


Pączki are Always a Solution

by KuriKuri



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Misunderstandings, Polish Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Speaks Polish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 01:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5028046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriKuri/pseuds/KuriKuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Someday,” Scott mumbles around the mouthful. “Someday I’m gonna get this recipe from you.”</p><p>“Not unless you marry into the family,” Stiles replies, licking the powdered sugar off his lower lip. “When I say it’s a top secret Stilinski family recipe, I mean it’s <em>top secret</em>.”</p><p>(Or: In which Stiles' babcia mistakes them for a couple and gives away the secret family recipe.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pączki are Always a Solution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katarama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/gifts).



> For Kat, because she needed some fluffy Sciles. Also much love to [bxdcubes](http://bxdcubes.tumblr.com/), who corrected all of my horrible attempts at Polish!
> 
>  **Note:** If you hover over a Polish word, the English translation should appear.
> 
>  
> 
> [Also posted here on tumblr.](http://authorkurikuri.tumblr.com/post/131486178525/for-sleepy-skittles-who-was-in-need-of-some)

Stiles munches forlornly on a pączek, the powdered sugar clinging to his lips. Across their rickety kitchen table, Scott takes a bite of his own and moans, eyes fluttering shut. Fidgeting awkwardly in his seat, Stiles’ cheeks go a little pink and he stares back at his pączek.

“Someday,” Scott mumbles around the mouthful. “Someday I’m gonna get this recipe from you.”

“Not unless you marry into the family,” Stiles replies, licking the powdered sugar off his lower lip. “When I say it’s a top secret Stilinski family recipe, I mean it’s _top secret_.”

“I would marry you for this recipe, bro,” Scott says, and Stiles has to bite back a sigh, because honestly? He’d marry Scott in a heartbeat if Scott actually asked. Not that he ever would, because he’s isn’t exactly Scott’s type. Not like Allison and Kira and Isaac and Danny are – all gorgeous, intense people.

“You’d use me like that?” Stiles retorts instead, mock hurt, clutching his chest. “It wouldn’t work though. My babcia vets all candidates before releasing the recipe, and she’d _know_ , alright?”

“Your babcia loves me,” Scott replies with a grin, which, granted, is true. Stiles honestly has no idea why Wioletta Stilinski took such a shine to Scott when she first met him, but then again it’s _Scott_. It’s pretty much impossible not to love him at least a little.

Or, you know, a _lot_.

“Yeah, and she loved my mom, too, but she still made my dad wait until they’d been married for five years to tell her,” Stiles protests, trying to ignore the tiny bit of tightness in his chest as he thinks about his mother.

“Right, but I’ve known you for longer,” Scott points out, his words a little muffled around another mouthful of pączek. “Would that mean I get a shorter sentence?”

“I have no idea, dude,” Stiles snorts, licking a bit of powdered sugar off his thumb.

“Oh, uh, by the way, apparently my mom’s still going to be down in Toluca over Thanksgiving, helping my grandparents move,” Scott says, fiddling with the remains of his pączek. “And I don’t have enough time to go all the way to Mexico for break, so I was thinking I might just stay here over break.”

“What? Dude, no, Scotty,” Stiles replies, frowning. “Just stay with my dad and me. Babcia’s coming down, too, if you wanna pester her about the recipe.”

“I’m gonna get that recipe,” Scott says, lips curling into a mischievous, slightly lopsided grin.

“Sure you are,” Stiles huffs. “I expect a four carat diamond.”

“But I’m a poor college student,” Scott replies, looking at Stiles with wide, puppy dog eyes. “All I have to give you is my love.”

Stiles does his best to ignore the tightness in his chest and rolls his eyes.

\---

Stiles does _not_ like the look his babcia gives him and Scott when they step into the Stilinski house at the start of Thanksgiving break. He can’t place _why_ he doesn’t like it immediately. It’s not an unpleasant look. In fact, she looks downright delighted to see Scott with him, but somehow Stiles feels on edge.

“Przemuś!” his babcia greets him, wrapping him in a hug so tight he’s pretty sure his ribs creak, even though she’s about a foot shorter than him and weighs half of what he does. “Dawno się nie widzieliśmy!”

“Cześć, babciu,” Stiles manages, patting her on the back. Scott, meanwhile, looks amused and Stiles has to resist the urge to stick his tongue out at him. “Do you remember Scott?”

“Ah, yes, ciacho,” Babcia Stilinski says as she looks over at Scott, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Babcia!” Stiles squawks, his cheeks turning pink. “Don’t call him that!”

“It’s true,” she says, sounding amused.

Stiles glares, while Scott just looks confused.

“Fine, fine,” she huffs. “Tygrysku good?”

“W porządku,” Stiles sighs, giving in, because really he should know by now that he’ll never be able to completely win an argument with her.

“Mama, are you going to actually let the boys in the house?” Stiles hears his dad call from further inside the house.

“Tak, tak,” she calls, ushering him and Scott fully inside the house. “Put your things away and come help me in the kitchen.”

“Will do!” Stiles replies, all but dragging Scott upstairs and away from his babcia. Not that he doesn’t love her, but any longer and she’ll come up with at least three more pet-names for him.

“So,” Scott says when they get up to Stiles’ room, sounding amused. “What did she call me?”

“Apparently you’re her ‘little tiger’ now,” Stiles replies, trying not to groan at his babcia’s antics as he plops his back down on his bed.

“Yeah, but before that,” Scott presses, putting down his own stuff next to Stiles’ bed. He’ll actually end up sleeping on the couch instead of schlepping over to the empty McCall house every night, but putting his stuff downstairs will just clutter the living room.

“Nothing,” Stiles says, trying for nonchalant.

“Dude, it was totally something,” Scott laughs. “You looked so embarrassed.”

“Ugh, fine,” Stiles sighs, resisting the urge to face-plant onto his bed. “Ciacho technically means ‘cookie’ but it’s also slang for, like, a hot guy, basically.”

“Your grandma thinks I’m hot?” Scott laughs, and Stiles glares at him.

“Please, for the love of god, shut up,” Stiles groans, trying to ignore how goddamn attractive Scott looks when he’s amused at Stiles’ expense.

“Should I be worried about your grandmother putting the moves on me?” Scott teases, making Stiles throw a pillow at his head.

“If she does I’m disowning her,” Stiles grumbles.

“Hey, don’t worry, you’ll always be my favorite Stilinski,” Scott says, and although there’s still a teasing edge to his tone, his expression is a little softer, in a way which makes Stiles’ heart skip a beat.

“We should go downstairs,” Stiles blurts out, getting up from the bed. “Babcia’s probably getting impatient.”

If Scott notices the abrupt change in topic, he doesn’t comment on it.

\---

“So,” Babcia says over dinner that night, and Stiles steels himself for the worst, because nothing good comes out of the tone of voice she’s currently using. “Your tata tells me you two boys are living together now.”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles replies, glancing over at Scott who shrugs, apparently as confused as he is. “What about it?”

“Przemuś, it’s okay,” his babcia says, sounding quite earnest. “You don’t have to hide it from me because I’m old. It’s okay that he is your chłopak.”

“Mój chłopak?” Stiles sputters, his cheeks flushing red. “Nie! Babcia!”

Scott, meanwhile, just looks confused.

“Mama – ” the sheriff starts.

“You don’t have to coddle me,” Babcia Stilinski protests, and she looks genuinely upset, which throws Stiles off guard. “I have no problem with my Przemuś loving another boy.”

“Uh,” Scott says awkwardly, finally catching on.

“He is a good boy!” Stiles’ babcia says, gesturing at Scott, and Stiles would like nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole, _right this instant_. “Pracowity! Przystojny!”

“Mrs. Stilinski, we’re not – ” Scott tries, looking uncomfortable, but his tone is soft and polite.

“It is legal to get married,” Wioletta Stilinski barrels on. “Why are you not married?”

“Well, they’re kind of young,” the sheriff answers, and Stiles wants to hug him right then.

“I married my mąż when I was eighteen,” she scoffs, brushing off the sheriff’s concerns. “They are not too young.”

Stiles resists the urge to bang his head on the table and instead mouths ‘sorry’ at Scott.

The rest of dinner doesn’t go much better.

\---

“Ugh, sorry about my babica,” Stiles sighs as they’re getting ready for bed that night.

“It’s fine,” Scott replies, tugging his shirt off over his head. Stiles quickly averts his eyes. “And, I mean, it’s actually kind of flattering that she thinks I’m good enough for her Sheme – how do you pronounce it?”

“Nope, no way,” Stiles groans, focusing diligently on the ceiling to keep his eyes from straying to where Scott is changing into his pajamas. “You don’t get to learn my babcia’s stupid pet name for me.”

“It’s cute,” Scott says with a grin. “And I already know how to spell your given name, even if I don’t know how to pronounce it.”

“Dude, are you seriously okay with my babcia thinking we’re dating?” Stiles asks, changing the subject. “Because I can set her straight if you want. I mean, it’ll be like pulling teeth, but I could do it.”

“Stiles, it’s fine,” Scott answers, and Stiles looks up when he feels the bed dip a little, Scott sitting down next to him. “I honestly don’t mind that much.” His lips quirk up into a grin. “Do you think this means she’ll give me the pączki recipe now?”

“Oh, I see, you’re just taking advantage of the situation to steal the Stilinski family secret recipes,” Stiles huffs, amused. “I’m onto you. But it’s not gonna work anyway, because we have to be married for five years before she’ll let you get your thieving paws on it.”

“I don’t know, maybe my hotness will sway her,” Scott laughs, grin mischievous.

“Oh my god, will you let that go already?” Stiles groans, grabbing a pillow and hitting Scott in the arm with it. “See if I let you come over for Thanksgiving again.”

“Dude, it happened today,” Scott protests, stealing the pillow from Stiles. “I get to lord it over you for at least another year.”

“You’re the worst,” Stiles huffs, and Scott just laughs.

They fall into silence for a moment, but it’s not an awkward one. Stiles supposes he should go brush his teeth, before he can stand up to go do so, Scott says, “So, uh, I’m probably going to have to stay up here with you tonight.”

“What? Why?” Stiles asks, frowning.

“I mean, your grandma thinks we’re dating,” Scott explains, giving Stiles a significant look. “And if she finds me sleeping on the couch then she’ll probably accuse us of coddling her again or something.”

“Ugh,” Stiles groans, squishing a pillow over his face for good measure.

“It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before,” Scott says, shrugging.

“Well, yeah, but we haven’t done it in years.” Stiles pauses. “While sober, at least. You’re a really cuddly drunk.”

“Yeah, well you’re a _clingy_ drunk,” Scott snorts and Stiles shifts the pillow off his face for a moment to glare at him. “You’re okay with it, though?”

“As long as I get the left side of the bed,” Stiles sighs, resigning himself to his fate. He just hopes that he doesn’t get morning wood or something with Scott in the same bed. Talk about awkward.

“Sure,” Scott says.

“I’m gonna go brush my teeth,” Stiles replies, partially because he actually needs to, and partially to get his thoughts in order while in private. When he locks the bathroom door behind him, he sags against it for a moment. It’s bad enough that he has _feelings_ for Scott, but he thought he’d been hiding them pretty well. But not well enough, apparently, if his babcia can already tell.

He brushes his teeth slowly and tries to tell himself that he’s not deliberately stalling to avoid sharing a bed with Scott. He’s just being thorough in his dental health, is all.

Eventually he has to face the music, though, and when he reemerges from the bathroom, Scott’s already curled up under the covers on the right side of the bed, fiddling with his phone.

“Are you gonna stay up any longer or are you coming to bed now?” Scott asks, and Stiles is pretty sure his brain short-circuits a bit when Scott asks if he’s ‘coming to bed now.’

“Uh, I was just gonna sleep,” Stiles answers, still standing awkwardly in his bedroom doorway. “Long drive, you know?”

“Great,” Scott says, flashing Stiles a smile, dimples and all. “I was thinking the exact same thing. Can you get the lights?”

“Sure,” Stiles manages, flicking the light switch and plunging the room into dim shadow. Stiles then makes his way across the room and carefully slips under the covers on the left side of the bed.

“Night, Stiles,” Scott mumbles.

“Night, Scottie,” Stiles replies, and resigns himself to a night of lying stiffly on his back while staring at the ceiling.

\---

When Stiles wakes the next morning, the other side of the bed is empty. For a moment, he feels a strange sort of sadness weighing him down, but a moment later it turns to relief. Better to wake up to an empty bed than to wake up pressed up against Scott.

Slowly, he peels himself out of bed, running a hand through his messy hair. As he heads out into the hallway, he catches a whiff of a delicious scent wafting from the kitchen.

“Obudziłeś się!” his babcia says as he makes his way into the kitchen. He blinks for a second, slowly taking in the scene.

“Morning,” Scott greets, only briefly looking away from the large, fluffy pancake he’s cooking on the stove. He flips it deftly, inspecting it for a moment, before opening the oven and scooping it off the pan and onto a plate inside the oven, where a few other pancakes already lie.

“Twój tygrysek, he is teaching me how to make pancakes,” Stiles’ babcia says, a bright smile on her face as Scott steps aside to let her pour more batter into the pan on the stovetop. “Then I will teach him how to make pączki later.”

“What?” Stiles blurts out, staring at her with wide eyes. “But – I – we’re not married yet!”

“Przemuś, he told me he loved you when the two of you were seven,” Wioletta Stilinski says, turning to pat Stiles on the cheek, like he’s _still_ seven years old. “I knew I would teach him to make pączki someday.”

Stiles looks over at Scott questioningly, but he’s focused diligently on flipping the pancake on the stove. Still, Stiles can’t help but notice that the tips of his ears look a little pink. Part of him wants Scott to be blushing because he actually does love Stiles like that, but realistically he’s probably just embarrassed about the whole situation.

At least he’ll finally get the pączki recipe, like he always wanted.

Stiles finds himself tasked with setting the table while Scott impresses his babcia with his ability to flip a pancake without a spatula by throwing it up into the air and catching it again. Stiles sincerely hopes that Scott doesn’t let his babcia try it, though, because Stiles has it on good authority that he got his clumsiness from her.

Eventually his father makes his way downstairs, apparently having taken this rare opportunity to sleep in. He works too hard, Stiles thinks, but then again, it’s probably difficult to be at home alone all the time.

“Scott and babcia are making pancakes,” Stiles says, as greeting.

“Smells great,” the sheriff replies, making his way over to the door to retrieve the newspaper from the stoop.

“She’s also teaching Scott to make pączki later!” Stiles calls after him, however, when the sheriff comes back with the paper, he looks unconcerned.

“Is she? It’s about time, I think,” the sheriff says, and Stiles struggles not to gape.

“But Scott and I aren’t…” Stiles replies, trailing off awkwardly, pitching his voice lower and hoping his babcia doesn’t hear in the other room.

“Stiles, she’s okay with it. I’m okay with it. Scott’s okay with it,” the sheriff sighs, sitting down at the table. “He’s a good kid, and he’s head-over-heels for you. He’s not about to flake off, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Stiles isn’t quite sure what to say to that.

The rest of the morning passes pleasantly enough. The pancakes are delicious, of course, because Scott somehow has a special talent for making breakfast foods. (He’s horrible at making pasta, though. Stiles is pretty sure he chipped a tooth last time he tried to eat Scott’s latest attempt at lasagna.)

Afterwards, he finds himself in the kitchen again, prepping food for Thanksgiving dinner the next day. He sends his babcia to get a couple of ingredients they’re still missing, and is prepping the salad when Scott sidles up beside him.

“Hey,” Scott says, voice soft. “Sorry about earlier. If you’re that uncomfortable with your grandma teaching me the recipe, I can tell her not to. I know it’s a family thing, and I didn’t mean – ”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Stiles sighs, bumping his shoulder against Scott’s. “It’s not actually that big of a deal.”

“That’s not what you’re making it sound like,” Scott counters, frowning.

“Seriously, it’s okay,” Stiles says, turning back to the salad and trying to gage how many sliced almonds to add. “I mean, you’re basically family. It’s kind of stupid to withhold it from you just because you haven’t married in or aren’t related by blood.”

“Yeah,” Scott replies, but there’s something almost – almost wistful to his tone. “We’re brothers.”

Stiles bites his lower lip, uncomfortable, because he’s pretty damn certain that brothers aren’t supposed to think about each other the way he thinks about Scott.

“Alright, now that we’ve got that out of the way, I’m drafting you to help me make the butternut squash soup,” Stiles announces, changing the subject in a way that’s probably way too obvious, but Scott doesn’t comment on it. In fact, he looks about as relieved as Stiles feels.

They fall into a comfortable rhythm, working side by side, and Stiles thinks that even though he can’t have Scott romantically, at least he still has him for life.

\---

Stiles is still working on the butternut squash soup when his babcia comes back from the store and decides it’s time to teach Scott how to make pączki.

“You need to know in time to help Stiles make them for Tłusty Czwartek,” Babcia insists, rummaging around for ingredients.

“Babica, that’s not until February,” Stiles says, his tone a little exaggerated.

“He needs time to practice,” his babcia retorts, handing Scott a mixing bowl. Stiles rolls his eyes, but Scott looks amused.

Stiles focuses back on the simmering soup, stirring it again, but he can’t help but pay a little attention to Scott and his babcia on the other end of the kitchen. Apparently she approves of his mixing skills, but not so much of his dough kneading skills, and Stiles has to suppress an amused snort.

Eventually, he finished up the soup and succeeds the stove to them so they can start frying the pączki. Scott’s remarkably good at it, despite the fact that Stiles is pretty sure the last time Scott tried frying something was the time he almost burned down their apartment trying to make curly fries for Stiles’ birthday. (The thought counted, at least.)

“Nie rób tego,” his babcia says when he tries to steal a fresh pączek, swatting his hand away. “Wait for them to cool.”

“Hej!” Stiles exclaims, pouting slightly. “But they’re better when they’re hot!”

“You’ll burn your tongue,” she insists, then pauses. “But I suppose your tygrysek can kiss it better.”

“Babcia!” Stiles squawks, but Scott – the traitor – just laughs.

It takes two more stealth attacks before he’s finally allowed to have a pączek, moaning a little as he takes a bite of crisp, warm dough.

“Jest świetne,” he says around the mouthful.

“That good?” Scott says with a grin, probably able to extrapolate even without Stiles bothering to translate.

“ _So_ good,” Stiles confirms. “I’m gonna eat, like, ten of them.”

“Dobrze,” his babcia says, poking at his stomach. “You are too skinny.”

“Hey!” Stiles protests, cheeks heating. “I’m _lean_ , alright? There’s a difference.”

“Twój tygrysek is too skinny, too,” she continues, turning to poke at Scott, too, who stops laughing at Stiles’ expense. Serves him right, Stiles thinks.

“I thought you called him ciacho yesterday,” Stiles says, amused.

“Tak, tak, but he is still skinny,” Stiles’ babcia huffs. “I need to go find your tata now. He needs to eat more, too.”

“Hey, he’s only allowed to have one!” Stiles calls after her as she heads out of the kitchen. “He’s going to die way too early if he eats too many!”

Stiles is pretty sure he sees her give him a dismissive wave over her shoulder, which really doesn’t bode well for his father’s health.

“I’d forgotten what an experience your grandmother is,” Scott says, once Babcia Stilinski is well out of earshot.

“She’s something, alright,” Stiles snorts, shaking his head. “At least we get pączki out of it.”

“Yeah,” Scott says. Stiles licks his lower lip, lapping up the powdered sugar still clinging to it, and Scott’s eyes track the movement.

If Stiles were paying attention to anything other than Scott, than he probably would have heard the thump of footsteps on the stairs. Instead, his breath hitches as Scott suddenly leans in and presses a soft kiss to his lips.

Stiles makes a surprised noise and his eyes flutter shut as Scott’s mouth moves against his, but just as suddenly as it started, it ends.

Stiles opens his mouth to ask what happened, demand an explanation, but before he can, Scott murmurs, “Your grandmother’s watching.”

Oh. Stiles tries not to feel too put out and mostly fails as he glances back over his shoulder to see his babcia standing in the doorway, looking like the cat who caught the canary.

“Babcia,” Stiles groans, pulling away from Scott.

“W porządku,” she laughs. “I will leave you two lovebirds alone. I remember when your dziadek and I were the same.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles groans as his babcia laughs and goes back into the dining room. Stiles hears her tell his father something about getting out of the house for a while, and Stiles feels his entire face flush as his babcia announces, “Your tata and I are going to get coffee! Bawcie się dobrze!”

The front door slams shut and for a moment, Scott and Stiles stand in the kitchen in silence.

“Did they just leave us alone to give us an opportunity to fuck?” Scott says after a moment, breaking the silence.

“Yep,” Stiles sighs and wonders why everyone in this household seems to live to make his life difficult.

\---

It’s been thirty minutes since his babcia and father left, and all Stiles has done is eat three pączki, which was probably not what his babcia was going for, but hey, he _is_ having fun.

“Okay, these are delicious, but I still have no idea where you put all of them,” Scott laughs, earning him a glare.

“Shut up, I’m a growing boy,” Stiles mutters around a mouthful of sugary dough. “Like you haven’t eaten four already.”

“Still less than you,” Scott replies, quirking an eyebrow at Stiles. Stiles, like the mature college student he is, just sticks out his tongue in response, before taking another bite.

He checks his phone for a moment, still chewing on the pączek. However, when he looks up again, he catches Scott giving him an odd look, one he can’t quite place.

“What?” he asks as he swallows, breaking Scott from his trance.

“Nothing, you’ve just got a little…” Scott says, gesturing to his mouth. Stiles scrunches his nose and then wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Did I get it?” he asks.

“No, just – ” Scott says, leaning forward and using his shirt sleeve to wipe a bit of powdered sugar off of Stiles’ lips. “There.”

Scott doesn’t pull away immediately, though, and Stiles’ eyes can’t help but be drawn to his lips, remembering what it felt like to have them against his, only less than an hour prior.

“Stiles…” Scott says, and before Stiles can think about what he’s doing, he leans forward presses his lips to Scott’s. However, instead of responding, instead of kissing back, Scott goes stock still.

“I – sorry, I – ” Stiles croaks, pulling away from Scott quickly.

“Your grandma’s not here,” Scott says, sounding a little dumbfounded.

“No,” Stiles admits, cheeks heating.

“Then why – ?” Scott asks, sounding dumbfounded, mouth hanging open a little as he stares at Stiles, and Stiles almost feels like crying at how badly he’s fucked this up.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have, I just – ” Stiles stutters, trying to look anywhere but at Scott. “I don’t know what came over me – ”

“So you wouldn’t want to do it again?” Scott interrupts, sounding strangely disappointed. “Because if you do I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Wait, what?” Stiles asks, his mouth falling open in surprise.

“I mean, I’ve had the biggest crush on you for forever,” Scott continues, tone a little dejected. “I hope this doesn’t make things weird between us, because I know that you don’t – ”

“Oh my god, come here,” Stiles says, and drags a surprised Scott in for another kiss. Scott freezes again for a moment, but then kisses back, mouth moving eagerly against Stiles’. Stiles can’t help but let out a little moan, moving to suck on Scott’s lower lip, bringing a hand up to fist in Scott’s hair. Scott opens his mouth easily to Stiles, but soon enough they have to break for air.

“So does that mean – ?” Scott pants, cheeks flushed.

“I’ve been head-over-heels for you for basically forever,” Stiles says, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Scott’s. “I have no fucking clue how you missed it.”

“We’re idiots,” Scott murmurs, and Stiles laughs.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees. “Yeah, we are.”


End file.
